


Just Begun

by Gia279



Series: Practice Ficlets [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Derek, M/M, Mingling, competitive laura, holiday parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: Prompt:Dinner party
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Practice Ficlets [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/945135
Comments: 11
Kudos: 169





	Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rozurashii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozurashii/gifts).



> The coin toss has chosen, my friend. 
> 
> uh and i am so sorry for that, and for this, it's a mess, i needed the break.

Derek tugged at his sleeves until Laura smacked his arm and hissed at him to stop. He glared at her. “I shouldn’t _be_ here-”

“Oh, stop. You look fine and I didn’t want to come alone.”

“Then why didn’t you invite Abigail?”

Her gaze dipped to the side. “She’s already coming, she was _invited._ She works with us.” Her face flushed. 

Derek sighed. “I just want it noted that all I wanted from this evening was a burger and my book,” he muttered. 

“Noted,” Laura replied sourly. 

_Ding._ The elevator stopped at the top floor. 

The spicy scent of cinnamon was overwhelming as the doors slid open, revealing a modest crowd dressed in glittery holiday finery. Low, cheerful music filtered through the chatter, and Derek could _just_ make out the smell of food, probably something light and easy to eat while mingling.

He should’ve eaten before they came. 

Laura stepped out, dragging Derek over to a group of youngish people chatting by a table of cookies. “Derek, this is my group of trainees,” she chirped. “The brightest of the bunch, if I do say so myself. That’s Lydia Martin, Danny Mahealani, and—you’re not mine. I’m missing one.”

Lydia’s smile was sharp. “This is my fiancé, Jackson.” Her gaze cut to Laura. “Your favorite is currently giving advice to the competition.”

Laura scowled. 

“We told him not to.”

“He isn’t my favorite.” She turned her head to scan the crowd. “Or not anymore.”

Danny held his hand out. “You’re Laura’s little brother?”

“Yeah, I’m Derek.”

He smiled, flashing dimples and a wicked gleam in his eye. “From the way Laura talks about you, we thought you were about twelve.”

“He acts like it,” she sniffed. “Where is Stilinski?” she growled. 

“By Abigail’s trainees,” Lydia reported and sipped her champagne. 

Laura snarled.

“Show mercy, boss, it’s a party.” Danny cast his charming grin at her.

She actually softened. A little. “He isn’t supposed to be giving them advice.”

“We know.”

Derek eyed Jackson, who looked utterly disinterested in the conversation, and Lydia, whose attention was already wavering. He prodded Laura’s arm. “Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the party? Stop thinking about work.”

“This is a highly competitive project, Derek,” she gasped. “And my trainees, Stilinski, goddamn it, included, are the best. There’s a _reason_ McCall and Argent keep trying to pick his brain, fucking vultures.”

“That’s nice language.” Abigail’s smile was sharp as a scythe as she approached. “And at a holiday party, no less.”

Laura puffed up like an offended cat. “Your trainees-”

“Are making use of their resources.” She shrugged elegantly. “It’s not their fault your designer is a pushover.”

She glowered. 

Danny caught Derek’s eye and jerked his head toward a table of pastries. “They’ll be at it for a while,” he explained as they slipped away. 

“Trust me, I know.” He rubbed his jaw, then noticed the look Danny was giving him. “Oh, Laura didn't tell you? They’ve been kind of dating for a year. They’re just competitive.” 

“Dear god,” he murmured. “Do they act like that outside of work, too?” His horrified expression was all Derek needed to know about what it was like working with them. 

He shook his head. “They’re so mushy it’s gross. Work stuff makes them…intense.” He took a brownie and set it on a napkin, wishing fervently he’d have made Laura stop at a drive-thru before they arrived. 

“That’s…worse.” Danny looked over his shoulder and grinned, waving at someone. “I see a friend, do you mind-?”

“Have fun.” Derek slipped deeper into the party; he’d learned last year that people were less likely to make conversation with him if he seemed engaged in others; standing near the wall alone at a holiday party inspired pity in certain types of people, and he’d rather avoid them. He had to stop letting Laura talk him into coming to these things. 

He drifted on the edges of a few different groups for a little while, always sliding away as the conversation dwindled, until he found himself caught in the web of a man telling a lively story about chickens, perched on the edge of a table he most definitely should not have been sitting on.

He was wearing a vest over his dress shirt, hair mussed and tie loose, gesturing widely with a well-chewed skewer that once probably held fruit. “And that, friends, is why you don’t trust dinosaurs, even the little ones,” he finished, grinning as the crowd around him laughed. His gaze caught on Derek and he blinked, jostled out of his storytelling glow by surprise.

Derek smiled uneasily. 

He beamed back and kicked his legs, hopping off the table. “It’s been great,” he said, sweeping into a bow, “but I’m needed elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“Stiles,” a pretty blonde woman said, “don’t you want to finish our conversation?”

His smile turned mischievous. 

She looked alarmed.

“Do I?”

She backed up a step. “Umm…” She scowled. “I told Scott you were messing with us.”

“Was I?” While she was pondering that, he crossed the space to Derek and grinned, bright, inviting. “We haven’t met. I’m Stiles.” He put his hand out.

“Oh. Derek.” He clasped his hand and realized too late that his fingers were sticky from the brownie he’d been picking at. “Uh, Hale.”

His brows went up. “Any relation to Laura?”

He grimaced. “That’s my sister.”

He beamed. “She’s my project leader, my trainer, and _you’re_ the Derek she’s always talking about.”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

Stiles tilted his head forward. “Do you still collect cityscape postcards?”

Derek flushed. “I—didn’t throw them out.” He looked over his shoulder, trying to find Laura. “It’s the lights,” he sighed, mortified. “They—remind me of stars. Like—uh.” 

Stiles smiled, bouncing on his toes, encouraging him with a nod.

“Like we’re trying to recreate space where we can reach, or something. I don’t know.”

“Laura says you’re a writer.”

“Laura apparently says a _lot_.”

Stiles laughed. “You’re not wrong. Here, come with me.” He swept over to a table Derek hadn’t dared approach, squeezing between two older men and reemerging with two plates piled with small, cold cut sandwiches and snack sized bags of chips. He nodded. “This way. I’m guessing you met Lydia and Danny,” he chirped. He moved with almost dangerous purpose, cutting through the crowd with sharp elbows and sharper grins. 

“Yeah,” Derek managed, swept along in his wake.

“Geniuses, both of them,” Stiles announced. “Hey, Allison, thanks,” he said as he slipped past a group.

“They seemed annoyed at you.”

Stiles tossed a careless grin over his shoulder. “They’ll get over it.”

Derek’s heart double thumped. 

Stiles got through another crowd and used his elbow to open a door, which led to a stairwell going up. “Come on.”

Derek peered up the clean white stairs, wrinkling his nose. The paint was fresh. “Where are we going?”

“To eat,” Stiles said simply. “And _quickly,_ before the executives get drunk and sloppy.”

Derek figured that was good enough and followed Stiles up. 

The stairs led to a second door, which led to…the roof. 

It was frigid outside and dark up this high, but safe enough, Derek noticed. There was a tall fence around the edge, like a balcony. 

Stiles walked right up to the rail and peered over the edge, letting out a low whistle. “Nice. Oh, here, you should eat.” 

Derek accepted the plate but refused to get quite that close to the edge. “Why’d you want to come up here?”

He shrugged. “I thought you might like the view.”

Derek ripped his gaze away from the curling grin on Stiles’s face and noticed the bright lights of the city, glowing in the late evening. They were high enough up that it was pretty; he knew from experience that it wasn’t quite that lovely up close. He let out a long breath. “Thanks, I guess.” When Stiles sat down, Derek joined him without thinking about getting his dress pants all dirty. “It’s quieter up here.” The wind tugged at his hair.

Stiles nodded, already eating his sandwich. “Parties are fun, but sometimes it’s nice to get away, too. Plus, I’m waiting for Heather, Scott, and Allison to figure out I told them all to do the exact opposite of what they should if they want to be granted the project.”

“What is the project?” Derek asked, and wished he wouldn’t have. Laura’s job was complicated and confusing enough, designing various types of security systems and vaults, but Stiles was easy to listen to, even though Derek had no idea what he was talking about.

“ _Anyway_ , basically we’re supposed to be competing for this huge project, and they know my designs are the best, so they were trying to see if I would tell them what I was working on, so I figured I’d have a little fun while I was at it.” He scowled at his plate. “I can’t believe Lydia thought I was actually telling them anything!” 

“I’m sure they’ll be very impressed with your subterfuge once they figure it out.”

He grinned. “They’d better be.” He folded his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles. “So how did Laura talk you into coming to this party? Because you seem kind of put out about it to me.”

He snorted. “That’s an understatement.” He shrugged. “She didn’t want to come alone and I’m a pushover.” He leaned back on his palms. “I wonder if Abigail distracted her enough that I can get out of here, though. I’m starving.”

“What, stale, room temperature sandwiches weren’t enough for you?” Stiles teased. 

“No.” 

Stiles stood, brushing his hands over the back of his pants. “Me neither. Let’s go get some burgers.” He held his hand out.

“And how do you plan to sneak out of here?”

“Uh, the same way I got in.” He pulled Derek to his feet. “We can make it, and then we’re going to have the best burger of your life.”

“I highly doubt that.” 

He grinned over his shoulder and, again, Derek found himself just…following him. Stiles got them through the party the same way he’d gotten them to the roof, with the kind of ease that came from not caring if you gave someone a kidney shot while slipping through stubborn groups. 

Laura spotted them and grabbed Stiles’s arm. “And _where_ are you going?” she hissed. “We have to talk about your-”

“Laura, please.” He shook his head at her, catching her hand between both of his. “You think I learned nothing from you? It’s way more fun to let them think they’re winning than to just refuse to play their game.” 

She blinked, then relaxed. “Oh. Oh, good. I didn’t think you were that stupid,” she said breezily. “Now where are you going with my brother?”

Derek rolled his eyes at her.

“We were going to get real food.” He slipped out of her grasp. “But if you have a problem with that…”

She grinned, shaking her head. “Nope, I’ve got something to tell Abigail. You two have fun.” She winked at Derek before she turned away, leaving him annoyed and flushed. 

Stiles grinned at Derek. “Come on.” He did his crowd magic again, pulling Derek through without once getting caught up in conversation, or stuck behind slow walkers, and suddenly they were on the elevator alone together. 

Derek eyed him. “Are you a wizard?”

Stiles laughed. “Yep. You caught me. My secret power is busting out of social obligations.”

Derek chuckled, ducking his head. When they got outside, he said, “You promised me the best burger of my life.” 

Stiles nodded, reaching back for his hand apparently without thinking. “I did, and I will make good on this promise. It’s around the corner, how are your shoes for walking? Too late,” he decided, and kept towing Derek along the sidewalk.

It was just as cold at the ground level as it had been on the roof, and noisy, with the growling wind and rush of traffic. Derek barely noticed any of it as his attention narrowed down to where his hand was clasped with Stiles’s. 

“Okay, so don’t judge the restaurant by its sign, because honestly, it needs new lights, and paint, probably, and also they might have never actually used anything to clean the floors? But I swear to you, it’s the _best burger_ you’ve ever had.” Stiles suddenly swung left, down between two buildings and into a side street, which was lit with a ghastly red sign.

It might’ve once read **Big Delicious** , but at the moment, with the burned out bulbs, it read **Bg D** which was unfortunate.

Derek leaned over Stiles’s shoulder to peer in the window, which was clean except for a large hand print smudged right in the middle. “Are you-”

“Don’t question me, Derek, I’m a wizard.” He grabbed the door and yanked it open, gesturing Derek in with a flourish. He finally let go of his hand. 

“Alright, wizard. If this isn’t the best burger I’ve ever had,” Derek said, feeling brave, “you owe me dinner.”

Stiles smirked. “And if it _is_ , I think you owe me dinner. Tomorrow.” 

“You’re on.”


End file.
